


Sons not by blood

by tehhumi



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoption, Gen, asking your step dad who your bio-dad even is any way, background russingon, does not actually answer who Gil-Galad's bio-dad is, gil galad son of plot hole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: Gil-Galad decides it's time to find out who he came from. He ask Maedhros, who has a different perspective than expected.





	Sons not by blood

“Who’s really my father?”

Maedhros looked up from the map he was studying. “Why do you ask?”

“I know Fingon’s not my father, and you know it too. So who is?”

“Unimportant.”

“My father is some random nobody?”

“Most likely, but that’s not what I meant. Who really fathered you is far less important than who people believe did so.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Perhaps. Let me ask you, who was my father?”

“Feanor. Everybody knows that.”

“They do. You never met Feanor, but you have met Curufin, yes?”

Gil-Galad nodded warily, wondering if this would turn out to be a revelation that he was Feanorian.

“Curufin is a mirror image of his father, different in stance but not in feature. Tell me, do I have a single feature in common with Curufin?”

Gil-Galad thought for a moment. “You have the same shaped eyes?”

“As do all the rest of the Noldor.”

“Then no, I can’t think of any.”

“Precisely. I do not resemble Feanor any more than a random elf on the streets of Tirion, and a good deal less than some of them.”

Gil-Galad was frustrated. “But it doesn’t matter if you resemble him, because he really is your father. It matters that my eyes are the wrong color and my nose is the wrong shape to be Fingon’s because I am not his son!”

“You are Fingon’s son. He took you in as an infant, he claimed you as his own, he loves you, and he is raising you to lead his people after him. By that same token, I am Feanor’s son.”

“But - everyone knows you’re Feanor’s son.”

“And everyone knows you’re Fingon’s.”

“Who’s son are _you_ then?”

“Feanor named me for my heritage, both blood and adopted. You should be able to figure it out from that.”

“Nelyafinwe…” Gil-Galad hummed under his breath. “The finwe is obliviously for King Finwe of Tirion. But nelya, three, if it’s not just an insult to Grandpa… is it for the tribe from Cuiviénen? The Sindar - or they’re Teleri across the Sea, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Who was he? Are you related to Thingol?”

“No one you would have heard of.” Maedhros looked at Gil-Galad’s eager expression, and sighed. “His name was Penmalaclar, he was a ropemaker who would also pose for artists. Nerdanel had him model for several sculptures. She joined with him while she was engaged to Feanor, but Feanor forgave her. He knew quite well how rumors around a child’s birth can hurt them, so he told no one else, and only told me when I was old enough to understand.”

“He really didn’t tell anyone? Not even King Finwe?”

“King Finwe knew he had a grandson, who would be smart and strong, and would be raised with all the dignity of a prince of the Noldor. He had no right to, and or interest in, details about his son’s marriage bed.”

“But that means you never really should have been king in the first place! Does Grandpa know?”

“He does not. And why shouldn’t I have been king? I was raised to it, I understood it, and the people trusted me.”

“But you aren’t Finwe’s line at all!”

“I spent my life as Finwe’s beloved grandson. I learned how to listen to his people’s concerns, and how to solve them, by watching him in court. I was Duke of Formenos, and spoke on Finwe’s behalf in the remote reaches of his realm. I am a far more accurate representative of Finwe than say, Findulias, who has never met him, and whose father did so only as an infant. Is she more Finwean than I am? Is Lady Anaire?”

Gil-Galad thought about this for a moment. “So you’re part of Finwe’s line because everyone thinks you are?”

“Because everyone thinks so, and because the rest of them want me. Blood is neither necessary or sufficient to make people family. Think of how Fingon speaks of Elenwe for the first case, and Galadriel speaking of my father for the second.”

“Really no one knows though?”

“My parents know, as presumably does Penmalaclar. I told Fingon before we married, as he was worried about a marriage of half-cousins. No one else knows - not even my brothers.”

“And you don’t worry that they would love you less if they found out?” Gil-Galad asked quietly.

“They might be more annoyed at me for yielding the crown, but they’d still love me. They know I love them for who they are, not just because we’re supposed to love each other, and I know they love me the same way. Besides, Father loved me and counted me as his son, and Feanor’s word is good enough for us.”

“Will Fingon’s word be enough?”

“For some people. Most of the rest will accept his actions, that he wouldn’t have raised you as his son if it wasn’t true. There will probably be a few who spread rumors, as they do about anyone who is different. People liked to speculate that Celegorm was illegitimate or adopted, because his hair is silver and he’s not as studious. Never mind his nose and cheeks are a perfect match for Feanor, as is his ability to inspire a crowd.”

Gil-Galad considered that for a minute. “Why did Dad take me in to start with? You said that Feanor was already engaged to Nerdanel when she got pregnant with you, so Feanor would have had to give up his love as well as the strange baby. But I don’t know my mom, and Dad certainly isn’t in love with her.”

“Fingon has always wanted to have a child. He and I obviously can’t make any. When he showed up with a baby, I asked him why as well; he said you needed somewhere to go. He had a point, and another layer to the succession is probably good anyway.”

“So you really don’t know who my father is? Or my mother?”

“You are Gil-Galad son of Fingon. Whoever sired you doesn’t matter.”

“But I want to know.”

“Then you should ask Fingon. I spent the year after your birth pretending I was mad at him. If there was any coordination with your blood parents, I didn’t see it.”

“Why would you be mad at him?”

“For having a baby with someone else even though we’re married.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He wanted to keep you from the moment he saw you. If that meant the two of us had to be apart for a little while, it was worth it, for both of us.”

“Oh. Who knows about _me_?”

“Fingolfin knows as much as I do. I don’t know if anyone else knows at all, besides Fingon and your blood parents.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Penmalaclar" translates to “man who loves gloriously” in Telerin.


End file.
